Dreaming
by nerdielady
Summary: Spock shares Nyota's dream.


**Dreaming**

He sits cross-legged on the floor beside the bed. This brings his head almost to the same level as hers. She is sleeping. He does not wish to awaken her, not yet. He wishes her to be well rested when she wakens.

She has rolled from her left side almost over onto her belly, only her left arm and leg, bent, prop her up. One corner of the sheet has been pulled over her hips, hiding her from his gaze from mid-ribs to mid-thigh. He wants to see _all_ of her. Very carefully, very slowly and gently, he lifts the corner of the sheet and peels it back over her to the other side of the bed. Then he settles back down onto the floor.

She is so beautiful. He sits there quietly and appreciates her beauty. At his request, she has taken her hair down from the high fall it is usually in and it fans out around her on the pillow. He remembers spreading his hands across her scalp, his fingers weaving through her hair, feeling its softness. Her hair is very long, it falls down her back to the bottom of her shoulder blades when it is secured on top of her head. When it is undone, it falls past the bottom of her breasts. It had swirled about her as she moved, hiding and then revealing. He had found it very _stimulating_.

He admires the long curve of her body, from her shoulder down her back, curving in at her waist, flaring out again at her hips, around her lovely bottom, down the back of her thigh. She is perfectly proportioned and lovely in every way. He remembers discovering that that lovely bottom, which he has watched in bathing suit and gym shorts, fits perfectly into his hands. When he has her bottom in his hands, he can lift her up and hold her against him, with her legs wrapped around him and her hands free to touch his face, to run her lovely slender fingers around the edges of his ears. These memories rise up and cause him to close his eyes and concentrate, to subdue his reaction to them. It is not time yet, she still sleeps.

Her left arm is bent in front of her, covering most of her breasts. All he can see is the lovely top curve. The rest is hidden. He wishes to see more. Her breasts are so lovely. She thinks they are too small, but he does not. They are perfectly suited to her slender body. He has tried to explain this to her, but still she does not believe him. Why she thinks that he would prefer larger mammary organs he does not know - except that this seems to be the preference of most human males. But he is not human, therefore it is illogical of her to expect this from him. He cocks his head slightly to the side - he has not presented this particular logic to her. He must remember to do so.

He watches her as she sleeps. Her face is turned towards him, the muscles soft in sleep. Her eyelashes form shady circles upon her cheeks. She is so lovely. He sighs softly - she is asleep, she cannot hear him. He sees her eyes rolling beneath her eyelids - she is dreaming. Very, very gently he reaches forth one finger and touches it lightly to her fingers, laying there on the bed. He will experience her dream, even though it is illogical to do so, and inappropriate to do without her permission.

As his finger meets her skin he is flooded with images - images of himself. She is dreaming of him? In her dream, he stands at the front of the class, teaching. She sits in the seat she always sat in, the center seat of the front row. And she moves her legs apart, revealing herself to him. She is not wearing underwear. She slides down in her seat, spreading her legs further apart, enough that he can see the moist folds of her secret center. The dream version of himself continues to teach, but his eyes never leave what is revealed to him, though he does not respond to it in any manner.

This has never happened in reality! Sitting there beside the bed, he feels himself harden.

The dream changes. They are at the hotel in Oxford. They are standing in front of the door to her room. She punches in the code on the door plate and they enter the room. She removes the bright green dress, the gold belt with the little bells, the leg coverings that both revealed and hid her legs. She is wearing only her little white panties and a very brief white bra. Now she approaches him and undoes the front of his shirt, sliding it down his arms. Then she undoes his trousers, letting them pile on the floor around his ankles. She pulls on his arms, pulling him backwards towards the bed. They fall onto the bed, entangled with one another.

_They did not do this! _He had been entirely proper with her! Why is she dreaming these things that did not happen? He sits there on the floor, his penis engorged, his body damp with perspiration.

Is this how she always dreams? Has she really wished to do these things? He is having great difficulty in focusing his mind, but he never considers moving his finger away from hers. On the contrary, he discovers that he now has _two _fingers touching her.

The dream changes again. They are in his office, grading papers. He rises, goes to the door and locks it. She turns towards him and rises from her chair as well. She move to the side of his desk and bends down over it. He approaches her from behind and lifts her skirt up over her bottom, so that it rests against her upper back. Then he peels her little white panties down to her ankles, and with one hand he spreads her legs apart. The other hand is opening his trousers. He strokes her with his fingers, feels her wetness. With one long thrust he seats himself within her. He suspends himself above her, hands beside hers on the desk. He bends over her and bites the back of her neck. Then he begins the fast rhythm that brings them both quickly into ecstasy. She bites her hand to keep quiet. When they can breathe again, he backs away from her and pulls her little white panties back into place. She straightens up and goes back to her work. He goes to unlock the door. Neither has said a word.

Again a highly inappropriate sequence of events which has _never_ happened!

He is shaking now. There are drops of moisture oozing from the tip of his penis. His heart rate is up, his body temperature is elevated, he wishes most energetically that she was awake. But he does not remove his fingers from hers.

The dream changes once again. They are in the message array center, listening. She rises from her chair, goes to the door to the hall, locks it. She returns to him, reaches under her skirt, removes her panties. She leans over him and opens his trousers, then sits in his lap in the chair, one leg on either side of him, filling herself with him. She moves over him, causing the chair to sway beneath them. He clasps her hips, levering her up and down, his head thrown back. She leans over and bites his neck as the muscles inside squeeze him in continuous waves of sheer ecstasy.

They have _not_ done this! Not even once! He would never do such an inappropriate thing to her! It is not possible that she thinks that he would!

He is highly agitated. His body aches for completion. His control is slipping fast. He draws in a great breath, trying to calm himself - and he smells her. She is HIGHLY aroused! The smell of her arousal overpowers him and he is on the bed beside her before he can stop himself, before he can think what he is doing. He rolls her over onto her back and she opens her eyes and greets him with a huge grin.

"I didn't think you were ever going to come up here and I was running out of ideas."


End file.
